


My funny what now?

by BlushLouise



Series: Occasions [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Did I mention the fluff, Fluff, Love, M/M, Megs owns a spa, Romance, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, that's one way to end a war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-03-31 09:43:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13972371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushLouise/pseuds/BlushLouise
Summary: The Decepticons are fast learners, and this human holiday is a good excuse to prove it to the Autobots. After all, what better way to spend Valentine's Day than with new friends and lovers?The Autobots approve. Bring on the hot water and the high-grade! And let's hope Megatron built enough bedrooms.





	1. Miracles, I guess, still happen now and then

The call from the Nemesis came as a surprise. They were less rare than they used to be, but Prowl remembered too many calls that heralded bad things to be especially pleased when one came through.

Still, the second-in-command felt some of his apprehension ease when he saw who was calling. And that it was for him personally.

"Soundwave," he nodded, accepting the transmission.

"Prowl," the carrier said, his voice more monotone than usual through the tinny speakers. "Time: suitable?"

This late in the evening, command was almost empty. Blaster was manning the comm station, as usual, but his body language made it very clear that he was in no way paying attention to what his superior was saying. He was probably close to offlining from curiosity, but he wasn't listening.

"Yes, this is an acceptable time. Please speak freely."

The visored mech nodded. "Your time: appreciated." Then he hesitated, strangely. Prowl waited with as much patience as he could muster. Soundwave never called, so this was probably important.

"Soundwave: requesting truce," the navy mech said finally. "Autobots: invited to gathering. Reason: celebration of new Decepticon energon production facility. Also: Valentine's day."

Prowl stopped himself from gaping, but just barely. This was familiar, funnily enough, though their roles seemed to have been reversed. "I see. What are the terms?"

"Truce: to last for seventy-two hours," Soundwave replied. "Participants: unarmed. Fuel and transport: to be supplied by the Decepticons."

"Same terms as last time," Prowl nodded. Well, it had worked then. His tactical computer was already running several different scenarios, but unlike last time, a lot of them were coming up with positive results. "And the need for transport?"

"New facility: in remote location," Soundwave replied. "Air transport: necessary."

"I see. When is this gathering to take place?"

"Date: Valentine's day," Soundwave said. It was hard to tell with the visor and mask, but Prowl got the distinct feeling that the Decepticon felt as though he was repeating himself. "Specifically: from 0800 Earth time the day before, to allow for travel time."

"Understood," Prowl said, even though that was very far from the truth. "I will discuss this with Prime, but the terms will probably be acceptable. Will it be possible for me to call back the same time tomorrow to confirm?"

"Affirmative," the Decepticon nodded. Then the connection closed.

Prowl leaned back, considering. He was operating on insufficient data here, and there was really only one mech who could help him.

*Jazz?*

*Prowler?*

*What kind of thing is a Valentine's day?*

* * *

"… an' the date is the fourteenth," Jazz finished, "a week from now."

The Prime leaned back. "Well, that's certainly unexpected. Do you know if this invitation came from Soundwave or from Megatron?"

"He didn't say, but I would guess it came from Megatron," Prowl replied. "Soundwave doesn't operate on his own."

Ratchet snorted. "Oh, it came from Soundwave, all right. Or Starscream, even, whispering in Soundwave's audio. Megatron wouldn't come up with something like this. But you can bet your transformation cogs that he's approved it, or the invitation wouldn't have been made."

Red Alert stared from one to the other of the officers around the table. "You're not seriously thinking of accepting this? It's most certainly a trap! Offering to transport the Autobots to a remote location? Three whole days? Optimus, you can't possibly agree to this!"

"I can assure you that I am considering that aspect, Red Alert." Prime seemed to try to reassure his high-strung security director. "But we must also consider that this is a legitimate invitation. After all, we did it to them."

"Yes, but we're Autobots!" Red Alert argued. "They're Decepticons!"

Optimus only nodded. "Jazz, have you heard any rumors about this new facility of theirs?"

The smaller mech leaned back in his chair, barely resisting putting his pedes on the table. "Nothin' 'bout a new facility. But the Constructicons have been absent for a while. An' the Seekers have changed their patrol patterns to range further from the base."

"Oh, slag! That's it!" Wheeljack said suddenly, his vocal indicators flashing brightly. "Optimus, I think I can shed some light on this." The colors flashing next to his faceplate deepened to a dark orange, and Jazz leaned forward with an excited smirk. An embarrassed Wheeljack was always amusing.

"I spent some time talking to Scrapper and Mixmaster at the Christmas party," the engineer continued. "I… may have mentioned at some point that we get much of our energon from the volcanic converters. They were very interested in the science behind it."

"An' you were flattered, so you told them all about it," Jazz grinned.

Wheeljack didn't reply, but he didn't need to. His vocal indicators did it for him.

"So ya think they've somehow began harvesting energon from volcanic activity themselves," Ironhide said.

"Yes," Wheeljack replied. "Which would be a good thing, right? At least that way they don't attack anybody."

"Unless they accidentally on purpose destroy the planet," Red Alert grumbled.

"It would be a good thing," Optimus agreed, ignoring the Lamborghini. "I don't blame you for telling them, Wheeljack." He paused, steepled his fingers in front of his face. "We will accept the invitation."

"But Optimus –" Red Alert protested.

"Hear me out," the Autobot leader said, holding up a hand to make them quiet. "We will accept the invitation. But – and this is a big but – we will need surety that Megatron has approved this. We also want to scout the site out ourselves before the party. That means Skyfire and Silverbolt at the very least, preferably with one of you along for the ride."

"I will tell Soundwave," Prowl nodded.

"Optimus…" Red Alert whined.

"Easy, my friend," the Prime said, reaching out and laying a hand on the SD's shoulder. "I understand your worry. But I cannot in good conscience say no when they're simply trying to do what we did so successfully."

Jazz didn't say anything. But he had a strong feeling that the Prime was extra willing to approve of something that would let him hang out with an unarmed Starscream again.

* * *

"Acceptable," Soundwave said. "Guides: myself and Rumble. Suggestion: tomorrow?"

"Yes, that will work," Prowl agreed. "Wheeljack and I will accompany you. Meet us here at noon."

The connection cut off.

"Well?" Starscream demanded impatiently, moving away from the wall again. "What did they say?"

"Terms: acceptable," Soundwave replied, turning towards the high-strung Seeker. "Autobots: desire proof of facility's existence."

"Of course," the Seeker sneered. "Of course they do."

"Action: understandable," Soundwave said. "Decepticons: not to be trusted."

"Shut up," Starscream snarled, turning on his heel and walking away. "Let me know when they finally make up their minds."

He barely waited for the inevitable "Affirmative" before stalking off down the hall.

Imbecilic Autobots with their stupid code of honor and their stupid attitude.

Starscream unlocked the door to his trine's quarters, bracing himself for the expected barrage before going inside.

Thundercracker looked up as he walked in. "So what did they say?"

"Nothing," Starscream grumbled. "They want to examine the site first. So Silverbolt and Skyfire are going to –"

"Silverbolt?" Skywarp repeated, grinning. And then he vanished.

"Wait, no –" Starscream began, but the glitch was of course already long gone.

"Don't bother," Thundercracker smirked. "One hint of that flier, and Warp is gone. He's been like that since Christmas."

"The patrol is not until tomorrow – he'll be flying around the Autobot base all night, waiting for that excuse for a Seeker to come out."

"Then comm him," Thundercracker said, shrugging. "Tell him that he's wasting his time."

Starscream eyed his trinemate with disdain. "Now why would I do that? Then he would just come back." Ignoring the look of incredulity on Thundercracker's face, he turned on his heel. "I'll be in my lab."

Thundercracker was just as bad as Skywarp was, he knew. If the Prime had been idiotic enough to send Fireflight, the decidedly most scatterbrained soldier in both armies – and that said something, considering that Starscream worked with Mixmaster, Scavenger and the Coneheads on a daily basis – out on a security scouting run, Thundercracker would have been right out there with Skywarp, no matter if they were needed elsewhere or not. This illicit relation they had going with the thrice-damned Aerialbots were driving them both to distraction.

Starscream was grateful that he himself at least was above such petty affairs. And that he could hide in the lab, away from his moronic, scrap-for-processor trinemates. They never came in there – he had managed to teach them that much.

Or he thought he had. Flitting after Fireflight had obviously rusted Thundercracker's processor, because the dark jet suddenly walked into the lab behind him.

"Okay, what's gotten into you?" he asked, leaning his hip up against a workbench.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Starscream replied loftily. "Get out. This is my space."

"Not until you've told me what's got your thrusters in a knot," Thundercracker said.

Starscream would have snorted, if he made such indignified sounds. "I am fine."

"No, you're not. You're in more of a huff than usual," his overly perceptive wingmate said. "It's this invitation, isn't it? Have you lost faith in the idea? You did approve of it at first."

"I did," Starscream admitted. "I haven't. I don't know." He busied his hands at the bench, shifting and sorting the equipment there. It was make-work, but Thundercracker lacked the scientific inclination to notice.

Usually, he did. But something must have happened, because Thundercracker came up behind him, hugging Starscream around his waist and placing his own hands over his trineleader's to still them. "It does bother you," he said quietly. "Why? Is it because they didn't say yes right away?"

"I… I have important things to do," Starscream said, scrambling to take control of the situation. "Leave me."

"No," Thundercracker replied calmly, his hands moving from Starscream's hands to his wings. "I'm not leaving until we've talked about this. Something's bothering you, Star."

Starscream tried not to relax into the traditional touches, part of the bonding ritual between trine members, but he failed quite spectacularly. Thundercracker had very insistent fingers. "It's nothing," he tried, but he already knew by now that his stubborn wingmate wouldn't let it go.

Thundercracker just hummed noncommittally, and kept on stroking his wings.

After a moment, Starscream folded. The touch on his wings really felt too good. "Fine," he snapped. "Yes, this gathering bothers me."

"It's not the gathering, though, is it," Thundercracker mused, and when exactly did his trinemate become so perceptive? "You were excited about it yesterday. It was nice, actually, to see you prancing around happily again. It's been a while."

Starscream didn't dignify that with an answer. He most decidedly did _not_ prance.

"I think it's their response," Thundercracker said, still caressing Starscream's wings. "You're afraid they'll say no. You're afraid he doesn't want to see you."

"That's complete and utter slag," Starscream protested, indignant. "I am not afraid! I face down Megatron on a regular basis, why would I be afraid now?"

"You don't like Megatron," Thundercracker pointed out.

"Of course I don't," Starscream huffed. "I do not like _anyone_. Primus, I can barely tolerate you and Skywarp!"

Thundercracker chuckled lowly. "I saw the way he looked at you, Star. He wants to see you. He's been looking for you at every skirmish."

"Nonsense," Starscream said. "I would have seen that. And you, my dear Thundercracker, wouldn't have, because you're always chasing that little red Aerialbot aft. That, I have noticed."

Thundercracker, to his eternal discredit, just laughed. "Star, I love you like a brother but sometimes you're as dense as lead. He looks for you. Trust me." A soft stroke down each wing's edge completed the ritual, and the darker mech stood up and left, ignoring Starscream's stutters and closing the door behind him.

It took Starscream a few moments to collect his thoughts, but then he went back to work. He tried hard to dismiss Thundercracker's notion, and by the time he had finished servicing his null rays he had almost managed to do so.

After all, it was completely ridiculous that the Prime would be looking for him. And if he was looking, it was probably to shoot him. He was a valuable officer to the Decepticons, after all. It couldn't be personal.

It just couldn't be.

* * *

Jazz watched, mild excitement making his spark pulse, as Blast Off and Astrotrain landed in front of the Ark. Skyfire was waiting next to them, already transformed and loaded.

"This has to be the first time I'm moderately pleased to see those two slaggers," Ratchet said gruffly. The medic was standing next to Jazz, a portable medikit the size of Bumblebee next to him.

"Excited ta be goin', Ratch?" Jazz asked, smirking at the white mech. "Ah know Ah am. This is goin' ta be fun."

"Yes, of course," Ratchet said sardonically. "Boarding a Decepticon triple-changer, having to travel with those pit-spawned Constructicons, and then spend three days in a volcanic dugout at the bottom of the ocean. Fun."

Jazz grinned. Ratchet was probably not the only one who was apprehensive about this. He could see Hound and Mirage waiting next to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, the twins practically bristling with repressed energy as they waited to escort Ratchet and Wheeljack aboard Astrotrain. Cliffjumper was equally as tense; he was standing with Brawn, Huffer, Bluestreak and Smokescreen, waiting to board Blast Off along with Jazz and Perceptor.

After coming back from the guided tour of the site a few days ago, Prowl and Soundwave had devised a travel plan and group schedule that was meant to assuage any fears anyone had about being transported by a member of the opposite faction. According to Prowl, this should both put the majority of both factions at ease – moderately – and make the trips safer, since, hopefully, neither faction would fire on their own higher ranks. So for this round, Ratchet and Wheeljack got the company of the Constructicons, in the hopes that no one wanted to take out the medics and engineers of both factions. Jazz got the interesting pleasure of traveling with Soundwave and the cassettes, and that was mainly due to a hope that no one wanted to get rid of the enemy bad enough to also take out one of their own greatest assets. Prime himself was already aboard Skyfire along with Megatron, and Ironhide, Trailbreaker, Onslaught and Swindle would be accompanying them. After this trip, the shuttle-formers would come back and pick up whoever was left.

It was either a guaranteed success or a gigantic clusterfrag. Jazz hadn't decided yet.

"Was fun last time we hung out with 'em," he said conversationally as Astrotrain opened his hold. "And no one thought that would work, either." He smirked as the medic began walking away. "Remember th' truce, Ratch. That goes for wrenches, as well."

Ratchet just shot him a glare and followed the twins into the triple-changer.

As Blast Off opened his own hold, Jazz straightened out of his slouch against the Ark doorframe and sauntered over to his companions. He was more than a little surprised when his scientist travel companion suddenly attached himself to him as they boarded the shuttle and stuck to his side as if magnetized there.

"Um. Percy?"

"Oh, I apologize, Jazz," Perceptor squeaked. "It's just – I must admit to being more than a little nervous about this venture. I cannot see how our safety is guaranteed."

"Ya were there at Christmas, weren't ya?" Jazz asked. Now that he thought back, he couldn't remember seeing the microscope-former.

Perceptor looked away, mumbling something about spending most of that party inside Skyfire's alt mode. Which explained why the shuttle-former had been conspicuously absent as well.

"Well, we have an hour-long trek ta work on that," Jazz said, smiling easily and taking a moment to be grateful that Soundwave and his cassettes were the only 'Cons they had to worry about. Strange as it would have seemed once, the ominously silent spymaster had become one of the few 'Cons Jazz thought he might almost trust, if it came to that. Certainly enough to be cordial for an hour of flying.

And in his chest, the navy mech carried one of the few non-threatening 'Cons in existence, perfect for reassuring the nervous Autobot scientist.

Soundwave was waiting inside the shuttle. He gave Jazz a polite nod.

"Soundwave, mah mech," Jazz grinned. "Thanks for the invite."

"Autobot response: appreciated," the Decepticon replied evenly. "Decepticons: reciprocating."

"Yeah, we figured it was somethin' like that," Jazz agreed, trying to get the still-attached Perceptor to strap down in one of Blast Off's seats. "That's why we took th' chance that th' whole thing was on the up an' up."

"…Affirmative." Soundwave hesitated minutely before responding, and Jazz was willing to bet he had checked the slang with one of his cassettes. For a communications officer, he wasn't paying a lot of attention to all the human frequencies abounding around them. But not everyone could be as accepting of Earth culture as himself and Blaster.

Jazz finally managed to get Perceptor strapped in safely, and slid into the seat next to the scientist. He nodded at the still standing Soundwave, indicating his chest. "So can th' little guys come out to play?"

Soundwave froze. "Query: Autobot Jazz desires the cassettes to be present?"

Jazz grinned. For such a monotone mech, Soundwave managed to put quite a lot of surprise and incredulity into the question. "Yeah, 's a truce, right? Let 'em out, let's socialize. Beats spendin' this entire trip starin' at each other with nothin' to say. The little guys may be chaos incarnate, but they're great ice-breakers."

Soundwave just stared. Or at least Jazz assumed he did; it was kind of hard to say with that mask and visor.

After a moment, Soundwave lifted his hand slowly and pressed the button on his shoulder. "Cassettes: Eject."

It wasn't quite chaos, but it was certainly a flurry of activity. Ravage landed gracefully, eyed everyone with equal disdain, and walked with quiet dignity into the deeper parts of Blast Off's hold. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw came out flying, and after a few rounds they both landed on the highest possible vantage points – which weren't very high, considering they were inside the shuttle. Rumble and Frenzy came out cussing and swearing, staring daggers at everyone and doing their best to look threatening, which Jazz could sort of understand considering not a mech there was friendly towards them.

Ratbat flittered around uncertainly before ending up in the lap of Bluestreak, who helpfully enough had sat down on Perceptor's other side.

"Hi Bluestreak!"

Bluestreak grinned. Perceptor stared. Jazz gave Soundwave a wink and got a slow nod in return.

Yeah, this could work.


	2. Welcome to my world, built with you in mind

The landing pad didn't look like a landing pad. It looked like a cleft in the rock, small and unobtrusive and completely inaccessible to humans. At the end of it was the entrance to the elevator, which was so cleverly concealed that everyone had to approach from a thirty degree angle to spot it and even he couldn't pick it up on his sensors.

Bumblebee was impressed. And glad he wasn't supposed to infiltrate the damn thing.

He crowded into the elevator with First Aid, Groove, Dirge and the Reflector triplets, silently impressed with the sheer size of it. It was bigger than the one on the Nemesis, and better made, running smoothly and silently.

Or maybe it was just that it was new. It was certainly a lot shinier than anything on the Nemesis – or the Ark, for that matter – and lacking the stains of rust and slime that gave the Decepticon main base it's… personality, for want of a better word.

He wasn't sure what he had expected, but as the doors opened, he was floored. The outside of the base was impressive, but it was nothing to this. Never in a billion years would he have expected the tiny nondescript pile of volcanic rock in the middle of the Pacific to conceal the space in front of him.

And he had to give silent praise to the Constructicons. Because they could have built a dingy factory. Or a sterile production facility.

They hadn't.

Bumblebee stared. He stared at the shallow, gently steaming, bright turquoise pool in the center of the large cavern. At the thick supporting pillars along the edge of the open space, with the inlaid lighting in whimsical creative patterns that bathed the room in a soft golden light. At the multitude of lit openings into other parts of the cavern, some that looked like they led to deep pools, some with cushy berths and couches, some only accessible to winged mecha or those equipped with Decepticon anti-gravs.

At the bona fide old school energon bar straight across from the elevator, backlit by cubes and cubes of different hues, all giving off an iridescent glow.

Megatron could have made this into a dark, damp cave. But he hadn't.

This was a spa resort.

The thought was so absurd that Bumblebee giggled. But there really was nothing else that fit.

They were the last to arrive, which meant that the place was pleasantly full. That it wasn't packed was an indicator of how big it actually was, as was the fact that Skyfire and Astrotrain were both standing upright without problems.

And talking cordially to each other, which was promising. Maybe it would be a good two and a half days.

Bumblebee angled past the center pool where Blaster's cassettes – minus Steeljaw – were playing to head over to the bar, getting a cube of that pearlescent perfection for himself. Swindle was manning the bar, which was kind of unnerving, but Thrust was drinking from the same kind of cube, so it was probably all right.

Hands full of the nicest-smelling energon he'd had since Christmas, he walked away from the bar to find somewhere to sit. He passed Grapple and Hoist, the former gushing at Scrapper and Long Haul about the quality of their work here, and wasn't all that surprised that those mechs had gravitated towards each other. He also wasn't surprised at seeing Ratchet and Soundwave hovering at the edge of the large space, heads together like they were plotting something. Bumblebee gave them a wide berth, because it was always good to put safety first if at all possible. That put him on a path towards Sunstreaker and that shiny red Stunticon; they were circling each other slowly, eyes scrutinizing the other's paint job. It was enough to distract him for a few minutes until he realized that if left to themselves they might very well circle all night.

When he rounded one of the supporting columns, he almost walked straight into a pair of strong, grey legs.

"Um, hi! Nice digs!" he squeaked, looking way up at Megatron's face.

The warlord arched a bemused optic arch at him.

"Thanks for the invitation?" Bumblebee said, and it came out as more of a question than he had intended.

Yes, okay, he'd spent hours talking to this mech at the Christmas gathering. And Megatron had smiled at him at least one since then, and hadn't aimed at him with his now-absent fusion cannon.

That didn't change the fact that the Decepticon leader was big, and strong, and intimidating, and capable of killing Bumblebee without really exercising himself too much. But he was unarmed, abiding by the trucde – not that that made him safe. Megatron wouldn't be harmless unless he was in stasis, maybe not even then.

Megatron's mouth plates quirked in a tiny smile. "Follow me. I want to show you something." He turned and walked towards a dark recess behind the column.

Bumblebee hesitated. Following the renowned warlord with almost an entire species on his conscience into a dark room? Not the safest course for a mech who wanted to see the end of the war.

Still. It had been okay last time they talked.

Squaring his shoulders and taking a strengthening sip of the clear, sweet high-grade, Bumblebee followed.

Megatron led the way around a dark corner and up a gently climbing set of stairs carved through the rock. At the top of the passage he palmed a door lock, and the hallway opened up into a large spacious room. The warlord walked to the center of it and turned back towards Bumblebee.

"These are my personal quarters. Only myself, Soundwave and Hook have access."

Bumblebee nodded, trying to conceal the strain in his legs from climbing those Megatron-sized steps. He looked around with unfaked interest.

The space was deceptively big, with curved walls and a low, domed ceiling. There was a giant berth along one wall, an open washrack tiled in soft, muted silver towards the back. The front wall was one large window, floor to ceiling, and Bumblebee walked over to it eagerly.

"Primus," he breathed.

He could see the entire inside of the volcano. Megatron's room was the highest one, so even the private rooms on the upper floors couldn't hide any secrets from the watching warlord. Which was unnerving and intriguing at once, now that he thought about it.

"You like my base?" Megatron said, his voice a low rumble behind him.

"It's completely awesome, sir," Bumblebee grinned. "I'm seriously impressed."

"Good," Megatron replied, and his voice was closer than Bumblebee had expected. "I gave the Constructicons free reign through the whole process."

"Clever," Bumblebee said, turning to see the warlord standing just behind him. "Even Grapple was impressed, I heard him. And he's such a perfectionist, if he says it's good it's pretty slagging good."

Megatron just grunted, before sitting down next to Bee, raising his own cube to his lips. "I had some requirements for them, but they've really performed well on this one. I think all my boxes are checked." He drank deeply from the cube. "I wanted somewhere where the energon could be easily manufactured, that could manage with a skeleton crew, but also could fit all of my Decepticons. It needed to be able to function as a secondary base if needed, and it had to be easy to defend."

Bumblebee really didn't want to, but he had to ask. "Defend from us?" he asked quietly.

Megatron didn't say anything at first, just looked into his cube. Bumblebee had almost given up on getting an answer when the big mech ex-vented heavily. "I hope not," he muttered.

"Me either," Bumblebee replied in the same tones. "Want to hear what I think?"

That earned him a small smile. "I haven't been able to stop you yet, have I, little scout?"

He had to chuckle at that. Apparently, he wasn't going to be offlined by the grey mech today either. "I think you're off to a great start here. If you want peace," he paused, then, looking up at Megatron, catching his eye, "I think it's within reach. You just have to accept it."

"Yes," Megatron replied with another heavy ventilation. Bumblebee could feel the warm air against his plating. "That's what concerns me." He pulled out another cube for himself, and gave another to Bumblebee as well even though his own was still half-full.

"Why?" Bumblebee said. He was still looking up at that silver face. Megatron seemed – troubled, somehow. Not that Bee would claim to be really good at reading that particular face, but at this point he was probably the best Megatron-reader the Autobots had.

"Because we've been at war for millions of years," Megatron replied thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I know how to stake out a different course for my Decepticons and myself."

"With all due respect, sir," Bumblebee said, and now he grinned, "I think your Decepticons will be staking out that course right along with you." He hesitated, gauging the situation, before reaching out carefully and placing his hand against the warlord's massive upper arm. "As will we."

Megatron eyed the hand for a moment, but didn't do anything to dislodge it. So Bee left it there.

"Just look out there," Bee continued. "These mecha are seeing peace in the distance already."

Megatron smiled slightly at that. "I know. They have no shame."

"Some of them don't," Bumblebee agreed. "Scrap that, most of them don't." Because really, from here, it was blatantly obvious what was going on. He could see Ramjet, smothered between Cliffjumper and Brawn, in one of the upper rooms. The one next to it had that Combaticon helicopter doing something very interesting to Blades and Groove. Hoist and Grapple were entertaining two or three of the Constructicons in one of the lower rooms – from here, it was hard to tell how many they were, but Bumblebee blamed that on the way they were entwined rather than wondering if his own sensors were faulty. And in the bottom corner of the large space, in one of the dug-out rooms with cushions all over, there was something going on inside a pile of cassettes that he'd rather not look too closely at.

"Can you blame them, though, sir?" he asked, watching Megatron from the corner of his optic. The warlord was taking in the scenes in front of them with a kind of bemused exasperation. "Part of it's the high-grade. Part of it is this magnificent setting. But most of it – at least, that's what I think – is this feeling that we have that the war might be coming to an end. That we don't have to shoot at you anymore. That you don't have to starve. That we can actually recharge without fearing for tomorrow, because tomorrow will be like today."

"I can't blame them," Megatron agreed. "After all, they're not the only ones seeking… reassurance." He looked at Bumblebee then, with a guarded expression that was almost a frown.

Bee got it though. "Hey, I've got three days," he grinned, raising his cube. "You keep the energon coming, I'll keep talking."

"Good," Megatron replied, and the frown melted away. "I have no objections to that plan."

* * *

"So I guess it's you we have to thank for this," Ratchet said, raising his cube at the communications officer.

"Negative," Soundwave replied. He leaned back into the cushions slightly. "Idea: Thundercracker's. Told Skywarp: told Starscream. Starscream: convinced Soundwave." He smirked at Ratchet, his bare mouth plates showing the expression clearly. "Soundwave: very amenable. Easy to convince."

The retracted facemask had been a surprise that Ratchet hadn't seen coming. Granted, they were in moderate privacy in here; Soundwave had led the way to one of the second floor rooms, one that was tastefully decorated with soft padding and cushions. At some point on the climb upstairs the facemask had disappeared, and now Ratchet couldn't stop staring at the pale faceplates that had been hidden behind it.

Soundwave was, to not put too fine a point on it, drop-dead gorgeous. Even with that visor still in place.

"Very amenable, huh?" Ratchet grinned.

"Affirmative. Query," Soundwave said, turning his head towards the medic. "Ratchet: enjoyed the gift?"

"The high-grade? It was exquisite," Ratchet replied, leaning back in unconscious mimicry of Soundwave's pose. "I did wonder about your reasoning for it, though."

The navy mech hesitated. "Soundwave… merely wished to express appreciation. Also: attempt at conveying interest in repeating occurrence. Christmas party: very enjoyable." Another pause. "Ratchet's company: very enjoyable."

Ratchet stared. He really didn't know what to say. He couldn't even come up with anything snarky, which was unusual for him.

He had to say something, though. Soundwave's faceplates, way too expressive without the mask in place, were showing the beginning of a frown.

So he blurted out the truth.

"I had fun then too. Talking to you. It was – nice. More than nice." Frag it, and here he thought he was old enough to not have to deal with the pede-in-mouth thing. He grinned, shook his head. "What I mean to say is, thank you. I enjoyed your company as well. I've been looking forward to this since you called Prowl last week." Now it was his turn to hesitate, looking over at the spymaster. "I was… I was hoping I would be able to talk to you again."

Soundwave nodded. "Confession: desire to see Ratchet main motivation for making invitation."

And didn't that make Ratchet's spark give a strange little flutter. For all that he'd thought he was too old for this, his frame and spark was reacting as though he was a nervous youngling.

"I'm very glad you did," he said softly.

Soundwave reached out then, carefully, letting his hand rest against Ratchet's red digits. "So am I," he replied.

* * *

Optimus had wandered the room twice already, looking. He'd been stopped several times by some of the assembled mechs who wanted to converse with him – everything from Mirage commenting on the décor to Jazz bringing him high-grade to Onslaught, of all mechs, expressing his hope that both sides would abide by the truce. He offered thanks, opinions and reassurances without really paying attention to what he said, optics always soon moving on to look for the one he had hoped to find. But the tricolored Decepticon second-in-command was nowhere to be seen.

As he was about to start his third lap, he spotted Seeker wings in front of the bar. Not the one he was looking for, but one who would know. He smiled and nodded politely to Hook, expressing his admiration over the facility, before excusing himself and walking over to Skywarp.

"Prime," the purple Seeker smirked. Silverbolt gave the Prime a respectful nod, and if his faceplates had darkened slightly in embarrassment, well, it was unusual company for him to keep. Not unexpected, though. And Optimus was hardly one to point fingers.

"Skywarp," he nodded back. "Tell me, is your trine leader here this evening?"

"Starscream? He'd better be," Skywarp replied. "He's been pining about this all week. Hold on." His optics unfocused for a moment, and then he shook his head in irritation. "The slagger's aloft. I'll take you to him, Prime."

"I don't want to intrude," Optimus said, even though he really did.

"No, it's good, he wants to see you. He's just… being Starscream." Skywarp turned to the Aerialbot leader, raised a hand to stroke his cheek gently. "I'll just be a moment. Don't go anywhere?"

"I'll be waiting right here," Silverbolt nodded, and the looks they exchanged made Prime feel as though he was imposing on a supremely private moment.

But then Skywarp grinned and put his hand on Optimus's shoulder. "Come on then."

It was the first time the Prime had been teleported like this, and he would be quite content if he never got to try it again.

"He's there," Skywarp said, pointing. "Comm me if you need to get back inside. But don't wait too long, or I might be busy." He smirked, and then vanished again.

Optimus found himself on top of the volcanic outcrop that was all that was visible above sea level. It had gotten dark while they were inside, and cold by human standards. The stars were out in force, so brilliantly visible here where there was no manmade light to conceal them.

He looked at where the purple mech had been pointing.

Starscream sat near the ragged top of the island. He had his knees pulled up under his chin, his wings flaring gently, optics staring into the distance.

It was a breathtaking sight.

Optimus walked closer, making no effort to conceal his approach. He wanted Starscream to know it was him. He wanted the other mech to stay where he was and not fly off. Most of all, he desperately wanted that dark helm to turn towards him and smile.

Starscream didn't even acknowledge him. Prime tried to ignore the brief hurt he felt in his spark.

"Good evening, Starscream," he said, lowering himself down to sit next to the Air Commander.

"Good evening, Prime," Starscream replied evenly, still staring out at the ocean.

That was the only response he got. Starscream didn't move.

"Are you hiding out here for the view or the solitude?" Optimus asked, trying to keep his tone light.

"Neither." Starscream responded in the same even tones. "How did you get up here?"

"Skywarp," Optimus shrugged. "I asked him where you were, and he brought me here."

Starscream lifted his head, turned to look at him at last. "You asked for me?"

"Yes." Optimus smiled, letting his facemask retract. "I must admit, I had been looking forward to talking to you again."

Starscream stared at him for a moment before turning away.

Optimus frowned slightly. This wasn't the reception he had expected – granted, he had fluctuated between Starscream jumping into his arms and Starscream slapping his face and flying away, but this silent indifference hadn't been in any scenario. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

Starscream's head whipped around fast enough that it must have hurt his neck cabling. "No! No." He ex-vented deeply. "No, please stay. I – I apologize." He smirked then, shaking his head. "I have been apprehensive about this, I confess. I know we were friendly last time." Prime smiled at the blatant understatement. "I wasn't sure where we stood now."

Optimus thought about that for a moment. He hoped Starscream would benefit from hearing the truth, because he felt the need to tell him.

"I've been thinking about you," he confessed. "Your smile. The way you laugh, when I can manage to make you forget to restrain yourself. The conversations we had." He smiled then, lifting a hand and letting it run down the flat expanse of one wing. "You've been driving me to distraction, Starscream."

Okay, that was a bit more than he had intended to say. All true, of course, but perhaps more than the Seeker beside him could bear to hear. He hoped Starscream wouldn't panic and rush off.

He didn't.

"Oh, thank Primus," Starscream whispered, leaning back into the touch. "I've been so afraid it was just me. I was so nervous about coming here tonight."

Prime couldn't stop himself then. He used his other hand to turn Starscream's face towards him, then leaned in and gently kissed his Seeker's lips.

After a moment, he pulled back. "I'm so glad you did."

Starscream smiled then, a beautiful expression that made the Prime's spark do interesting things in its casing and earned a purring sensation from the Matrix. "As am I, Optimus." He sighed, letting his head rest against the Prime's shoulder. "Thank you for coming to find me."

Optimus smiled and leaned down to nuzzle at the dark helm. He took advantage of the Seeker's position to put his arm more firmly around him.

"Thundercracker said you looked for me at every skirmish," Starscream murmured after a while.

Optimus nodded. "I did. At times, I could barely spare enough attention to tell Megatron to cease and desist." He chuckled, remembering. "On one occasion, Bumblebee had to do it for me." Emboldened by the way that Starscream seemed to curve into him, he used both hands to gently slide the Seeker into his lap. Starscream made a quiet, satisfied noise and nuzzled into his chest plating. "I've been so happy every time a skirmish has been resolved without violence - aside from the occasional punch, at least," Optimus continued. "I couldn't bear treating you as an enemy, Starscream."

"No one treats anyone as an enemy anymore," the Seeker replied against his chest. Optimus could feel his spark pulsing in response to the closeness. "At least not between factions. I do believe that the strange idea your SIC had has contributed to end the war."

"I hope so," the Prime nodded. "It would be wonderful to be able to see you without being in danger from your faction." He kissed the grey helm, then paused. "Between factions, you said. Inside your own faction, then?"

"Old animosities die hard," Starscream replied. One blue hand drew aimless patterns on Optimus's chest armor. "At least he doesn't hit me anymore. Not like he used to, anyway. Whatever your little yellow scout told him, it made him reflect on his ways."

"I wish I could keep you safe," Optimus murmured, cradling Starscream closer.

"Just never leave," his Seeker whispered, curling up in his lap.

"Sounds like a plan," Optimus agreed. He'd not let Starscream go, not this time.

Peace better be within reach, or he would slagging well enforce it anyway.

* * *

"Thundercracker!"

The blue Seeker turned. He'd missed that voice.

Fireflight came running, sliding to a stop a few meters away. He looked up at him shyly. "Hi."

"Hey, Fireflight." Thundercracker smiled at him. "It's good to see you. I'm glad you came."

"Me too," the little jet grinned. Thundercracker couldn't help thinking of him as little, even though Fireflight was not that much smaller than him. He was just so young. "Will you show me around?"

"Of course," the Seeker replied. Never mind the fact that he hadn't been here before and had arrived just before Fireflight did. He wasn't about to let the easily distracted mech wander off on his own, he might never find him again.

Though as they began walking, he wasn't sure who was really showing whom around. Fireflight was the one pointing everything out so Thundercracker would see it. And there was a lot to see. They weren't moving quickly, stopping to gawk every few steps.

Fireflight stared at the base. Thundercracker watched Fireflight.

He absorbed every smile, every wide-eyed expression. Every comment and question directed at him. The way Fireflight's optics just sparkled with excitement at everything he saw. And when Fireflight took to the air because he wanted to get a better look at the inlaid lighting, Thundercracker followed.

Looking at the lights turned to seeing the apex of the cave turned to looking at the little rooms dug into the walls. And when Fireflight flew into one that had deep blue walls and starry patterns in the ceiling, a long, shadowed room with soft flooring and cushions to soothe tired wings, Thundercracker was right by his side.

"This place is wonderful," the Aerialbot breathed, leaning his head back to look at the starry ceiling. "Do you think these are constellations? From Earth? Maybe from Cybertron. Who do you think placed all the little diodes, did the Constructions do that?"

"I think you'll get crinked cabling in your neck if you keep standing like that," Thundercracker replied gently. He walked over to the smaller mech, sitting down next to him. "Come on."

Fireflight giggled, settling down next to Thundercracker. Almost in his lap, actually, not that the Seeker minded. "Look up," he prompted, forcing himself to look away from the eager look on Fireflight's face to do the same.

"Oh!" Fireflight exclaimed. "I feel like I'm under open sky."

Thundercracker nodded. "See the one that looks like a reaching hand? I remember that one from Cybertron. And the one next to it, that looks like a beaker."

"Those ones are from Earth, though," Fireflight said, pointing at another part of the ceiling. "They're called Cepheus and Cassiopeia. Earth has lovely names for their constellations."

"Cybertron's names for the stars were nice, too," Thundercracker replied. He took Fireflight's hand, pointing with it as he talked. "Trionis. Materlum. Amical. Mernum, the sister-star to Materlum that drifted off at some point – Starscream or Skyfire can probably tell you why. Edion Caedis and Eidolon. There are stars from almost every system Cybertron passed through here." He used Fireflight's hand to point out a constellation that would always stand out to him among the others. "That's the Grace of Primus. It was visible in the sky the night Starscream, Skywarp and I pledged ourselves to each other. We could always see it in Vos, but it was invisible in Iacon."

"You know so much, Thundercracker," Fireflight said, turning to smile at the older mech. "Will you teach me?"

"Of course," Thundercracker replied, smiling back. "Of course I'll teach you. I'd be honored." And he would. He'd been an instructor, once, and had loved every minute of it. Maybe that's why he felt such a pull towards Fireflight – the young mech gave him a chance to be that part of himself again.

"Good. I'm glad." Fireflight smiled again, and Thundercracker couldn't help but smile back.

He had forgotten that he was still holding the other flier's hand until, with a deft flick of the wrist, Fireflight twisted their hands and interlaced their fingers. Thundercracker looked at their joined hands in surprise. "Fireflight…"

"Yes?"

And there was something in that tone. Thundercracker looked back up, and barely had time to catch Fireflight's optics before the younger mech kissed him.

It was shy, gentle, and completely unexpected.

And Thundercracker suddenly understood that this was what he wanted. He'd thought he wanted to shelter, protect, teach, like he had before. He'd been wrong.

Oh, how wrong he'd been.

Moaning into the kiss, he put his arms around the younger flier and pulled him close, until he collapsed backwards into the cushions with Fireflight on top. The Aerialbot was warm, and eager, all smooth plating and strong frame, and Thundercracker realized they were going to be in there for a while.

That was alright by him.

* * *

"Everyone's shacking up," Silverbolt observed, watching Sideswipe and Smokescreen cajole a not-quite-reluctant Astrotrain towards one of the larger rooms, snagging up Blitzwing as well as they passed him. "Is that why you invited us here? For four-person frag fests?"

"You have quite the mouth on you," Skywarp grinned, and Silverbolt could feel the Seeker's hand moving up his back between his wings. "Much as I appreciate your alliteration, I think it's just a happy side effect."

"A side effect?" Silverbolt repeated, arching an eyebrow as Motormaster and two of his stunticons hesitantly approached Hot Spot, First Aid and Streetwise. "Of what?"

"Of not being afraid and battle-ready for once," Skywarp said simply. "Some of these mechs, I think, are acting on long-standing attraction. Some of them are enjoying the chance to explore. Some are just making friends."

"Which one are you?" Silverbolt asked, turning on the pool's edge to watch Skywarp's face.

He was rewarded with a brilliant grin and a quick kiss to the hand that Skywarp was holding. "Me? I'm enjoying the side effect that is finally getting something I didn't even know I was missing."

Silverbolt looked away, then, but he didn't hide his smile. Or his faint blush. "And what did you get?"

"You have to ask?" Skywarp squeezed his hand. "I'd thought I made it clear."

"Indulge me."

Skywarp leaned closer until his chin was resting on Silverbolt's shoulder, letting him whisper into his audio. "The company of the most amazing mech I've ever talked to, who's kind and sweet and slagging attractive and who lets me believe that this war won't last forever."

Silverbolt laughed, embarrassed but happy. "Flatterer."

Skywarp tilted his head until his cheek was against Silverbolt's plating. "Well, yeah. But it's true."

Silverbolt busied himself with watching Ratbat and Rumble splashing at the other side of the pool under the watchful and strangely caring eyes of Bluestreak and Blaster. Blaster's own cassettes were nowhere to be seen. Blast Off was standing behind them, but he wasn't watching the cassettes.

"You said at Christmas," Silverbolt began quietly, "that you wished things were different."

"I would give anything," Skywarp replied, and his hand wandered down to rest around Silverbolt's waist. "It was hard to envision a different future, then. I was fairly sure that I'd just been given a taste of something good that I'd never get to experience again." He sighed. "Decepticons never get to have anything nice."

Silverbolt hesitated. He didn't quite dare trust this. With a rueful smile, he realized that he must be feeling some of what Skywarp had felt at Christmas – the doubt that this would last.

But the 'Cons had invited them. Not only that, he suspected that the Constructicons must have had hopes that something like this could happen when they'd built this place, because this was no mere energon conversion facility. This was built to impress. And the Constructicons never did anything that Megatron hadn't signed off on.

"I think it might be different this time," he said quietly. "Maybe you can keep what you have."

Skywarp lifted his head, looked at him. "Oh? What do I have?"

Silverbolt turned, leaned his forehead against the other mech's. "Me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up TC's stars and constellations. I googled a lot, but I couldn't find any actual Cybertronian constellations. So I did the easy thing and came up with them myself. Hope you don't mind.


	3. Ask, and you'll be given the key to this heart of mine

Jazz sauntered over to his mate. "Heya, Prowler."  
"Hello, Jazz." Prowl didn't look at him, but his doorwing pressed back into his caressing palm.  
"Ya know, ya don't have to work now," Jazz said, grinning slowly. "Everybody's behavin'. Or misbehavin', as it were." He smirked.  
"I know that. Someone still needs to keep control of this."  
"And it jus' has t' be you, doesn't it," Jazz sighs, caressing the other doorwing. "An' here Ah was hopin' t' drag ya over ta sample one o' those hot pools."  
That earned him a glance, at least. "The pools are heated?"  
"Volcanic energy, mah mech," Jazz grinned, and he knew it was a predatory expression.  
Prowl hesitated, then shook his head. "Nevertheless," he said, "someone has to be on duty."  
"Nah, they don't," Jazz said, leaning in to kiss the doorwing hinges. Prowl's gasp and quickly heating frame was a reward for that, but the visored mech wasn't satisfied yet. "It's a vacation, Prowler. No one's got t' be on duty. Pit, even Prime's let his guard down. Much further than anyone would consider advisable, but still…"  
"Yes," Prowl replied. "Prime's let his guard down. All the more reason that I shouldn't."  
Jazz circled his mate. He had by no means given up yet. "So… are ya keepin' track of everyone's whereabouts?"  
"I am."  
"Aaaand… ya need t' stand right there t' do that?"  
Prowl gave him a look, and Jazz grinned. "Ah mean… Can Ah convince ya t' move about twenty feet t' the left?"  
Prowl looked from Jazz to the spot he was trying to drag him to. The pool was sheltered, built so that it would be hard to look inside but still easy to keep an optic on everyone outside. It was a very clever piece of architecture.  
"Come on, Prowler," Jazz coaxed. "Ya know where they are. Prime is…"  
"… on top of the volcano, with Starscream," Prowl replied, a slight smile growing on his face plates. "And I see what you're doing. Ratchet is with Soundwave on the second floor. Wheeljack is drinking with one fifth of the Constructicons and some of the Combaticons."  
"Ironhide's just over there, by the bar. Bluestreak's by the pool with Blaster." Jazz tugged lightly on a doorwing, gratified when Prowl followed slowly. "Brawn and Cliffjumper are fragging instead of fighting. Sideswipe's exploring wingplay."  
"Sunstreaker's in the detailing parlor with Dead End," Prowl finished. "Rumble's in the center pool and I frankly would rather not know what Frenzy's doing right now. And Megatron's with Bumblebee."  
"See? Ya've got control over the trouble makers," Jazz purred, tugging a little harder. Pit if he was going to let this holiday pass him by without taking full advantage of the Decepticon hospitality. It was a very different kind than he was used to.  
He knew he'd won as Prowl's pede hit the hot water and his mate gasped. "That is hot."  
"It's lovely," Jazz confirmed. "Heated by th' volcano, enriched with minerals, Ah think even Ratchet would approve. C'mon." With one last tug, he managed to get Prowl into the pool.  
"Oh, that is heavenly," the SIC breathed, letting his frame sink into the water. It was deep enough that they could soak, but not so deep that they vanished under the surface.  
"Ah know," Jazz said, moving around and plastering himself up against Prowl's front. "Way Ah figure it, we owe Megatron a gift basket for this."  
"I'll have Bumblebee deliver it," Prowl murmured, his hands moving over Jazz's warm frame. "He seems to have discovered the soft side of Megatron."  
"Who knew Megatron even had a soft side," Jazz purred, arching as Prowl found a particularly sensitive transformation seam. "Primus. Two gift baskets."  
Prowl silenced him then, in the most effective way Jazz knew.

They sat together on the mountaintop until the horizon started brightening with impending sunrise. Starscream blinked. At some point, he'd fallen into light recharge in the Prime's arms, and now he was stiff and sore all over.  
Optimus's hand was moving slowly, gently over his wing plating. He was awake, then.  
Starscream was half convinced he himself was still dreaming.  
But no, that hand was real. So was the warm pulse of the Prime's spark behind his plating, just next to Starscream's helm. He could feel its comforting energy, it seemed to go straight from the Prime's spark to his own.  
It was downright scary. If Starscream ever confessed to such things.  
"Good morning," Optimus murmured, his mouth plates nuzzling against Starscream's helm. "How are you feeling?"  
"I need to stretch," Starscream replied. "I'm not used to recharging whilst sitting up." He couldn't find the will to move, though. Optimus's lap was supremely comfortable.  
A dark blue hand cradled his jaw carefully. "For what it's worth, I enjoyed your company very much."  
Then the Prime kissed him again. It was just as sweet, gentle and chaste as last night, and Starscream felt as though his struts were melting.  
Not that he was telling the Prime that. It was still too new, too embarrassing.  
"Of course you did," he smirked when the kiss ended. "I am very good company." Forcing himself to move away from that comforting spark, he stood up in one graceful motion. He walked a few steps over to the edge of the cliff, and stretched his arms up over his head.  
He could feel Optimus's optics on his plating. So he looked back over his shoulder, giving the Prime a smirk. "I'm going to work this kink out of my wings. Be right back."  
Then he took off.  
The air against his plating was a liberation. He transformed, feeling the gravity pulling at him, reveling in being able to shake it off. The tight turns and steep ascents woke him up proper, both frame and processor, until he felt present in his own plating again.  
He couldn't resist the urge to show off. It was intoxicating, knowing that the Prime was just down there, looking at him.  
He flew, and the sun rose, turning white plating to gold, red to burning fire and blue to gleaming sapphire. Starscream corkscrewed through the sky, threw himself into a steep dive, only to pull out of it at the last minute. He executed another low, lazy spin, turning in a wide circle before transforming back into root mode and touching down softly in front of the Prime.  
Optimus was wearing a very gratifying stunned look.  
Starscream grinned at him, preening.  
"You," Optimus murmured, walking closer and lifting both hands as if to touch, "are spark-rendingly beautiful. Divine." One hand cradled Starscream's cheek, a loving, almost worshipful caress.  
Starscream smiled, shuttering his optics and tilted his head into the Prime's hand. "You liked that?"  
"I loved that," Optimus replied, and Starscream could feel his other hand on his own waist, pulling him close. "That was a privilege to watch. I don't think I've seen you fly for joy in, well, ever."  
"Don't often get the chance," Starscream sighed contentedly, letting his own hands rest against the Prime's broad chest. "We're always short on time, or fuel, or both."  
"Well, we have plenty of both now," Optimus breathed, hands running over Starscream's flight-hot plating. "Primus." The tone was half prayer, half supplication.  
"Much as I love the freedom," Starscream whispered, looking at where his hand was splayed over the Prime's spark, "I need to refuel. And I want to show you something."  
"Anything," Optimus said, sounding almost breathless.  
Starscream pulled away, catching a few of Prime's fingers in his own. "Then come."  
He tugged at those fingers gently until the big mech followed, then led him down to the hidden corner of the rock. As he laid his hand against the spot of rock that was indistinguishable from the rest, he turned to tug the Prime close. And he would be damned before he told anyone how he relished in those arms around his waist.  
"Here," he said, pulling at Optimus's hand and placing it against the rock next to his until the stone heated under his hand. "Now it's coded to your energy signature as well."  
"Starscream," Optimus murmured, mouth moving gently over his helm vent. "What are you giving me?"  
Starscream was silent as the rockface opened, then walked inside the private elevator with the Prime's arms still around his waist. He twisted in his grip, looking up at him. "Myself," he replied earnestly. "To keep. If you wish to."  
"If I wish to?" Optimus smiled, and Starscream melted. He had the feeling that would be the way for things from now on. "Starscream, I dearly wish to. I'd be honored."  
"Good," Starscream whispered, and this time he was the one to initiate the kiss.  
He barely even noticed when they got to his personal apartment and Prime picked him up to carry him inside.

*Rumble?*  
Rumble grunted. He was recharging, fraggit.  
*Rumble? Rumble please, know you awake.*  
Rumble growled and unshuttered his optics. *What, Ratbat?*  
His youngest brother was sitting on his chest, looking as forlorn as only Ratbat could.  
*We alone. Everything silent.* The flier huddled down against Rumble's plating. *You think everyone's gone?*  
*Gone?* Rumble stared. Then he got it. *Ya had recharge terrors again, huh.*  
Ratbat nodded, looking a bit ashamed.  
*Come on, then. I'll show ya. Nobody's gone.* He pushed the bat off and got to his feet. The little cranny they'd snuck into to recharge was pleasantly cassette-sized, so he had to hunch a bit to get back out. Ratbat followed him like he was glued to Rumble's leg.  
*Reach out over the bond,* Rumble instructed. *What do ya feel?*  
Ratbat shuttered his optics and tilted his head. *Soundwave… recharging. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw… also recharging. Frenzy… recharging? I think?*  
*Yeah, slagger's rechargin',* Rumble replied. Passed out in post-interface bliss, more like, but the kid didn't need to know that.  
*Ravage… Rumble, what Ravage doing?*  
Rumble focused on the bond with the cat. She was amused by something. *Hey Rav, what're ya watchin'?*  
*Astrotrain,* Ravage replied. *He's met his match, it seems.* She sent him – just him, not Ratbat, because, obviously, M-rating – an image capture of Astrotrain all tied up in silver rope in front of one of those Autobots with doorwings and the red twin.  
*Huh. Kinky. Didn't know they were into that.*  
*Apparently, he asked for it. They just obliged.*  
*That's a first.*  
*Ravage, come down?* Ratbat asked.  
*In a moment,* the cat replied. *I need to watch until the end here.*  
Rumble knew what she meant by that. The cat had gotten herself good and itchy while watching, and that itch needed scratching. She didn't want to do that in front of the kid.  
*Gotcha. C'mon, bro.*  
Ratbat squeaked and followed Rumble out into the open space.  
*Can splash again?*  
*Not now, Rats. Everyone's rechargin'. But I can get ya some energon if ya like?*  
*Want Soundwave,* Ratbat said petulantly.  
*He's rechargin',* Rumble replied, holding on to his patience as much as he could. *Let's go over here. Ya can splash a bit if ya're quiet.*  
*Want Soundwave,* Ratbat repeated, sounding like he was on the verge of a breakdown.  
And to Rumble's annoyance, the kid's agitation was enough to pull their carrier out of recharge.  
*Go back to sleep, boss, I got this,* he commed Soundwave privately. *Rats just had a recharge terror.*  
*Rumble: certain? Ratbat: upset,* Soundwave replied.  
'Yeah, don't worry. If ya comm him now he'll go all ballistic and ya'll have to come down here, and then ya never get to talk to Ratchet properly.* He paused, probing the bond. *Unless ya already asked him?*  
*…negative.*  
*Didn't think so. Ya would have felt either a lot happier or a lot more upset. Stay with the doc, I've got this.*  
*Thank you, Rumble.*  
Rumble turned to his little brother. Ratbat's vents had started hitching, a sure sign that he was on his way to a full meltdown.  
So Rumble did what he rarely did anymore. He gathered Ratbat up and carried him. It was awkward, since the little cassette was not that much smaller than him, but he managed. He was more than strong enough.  
Ratbat's vents hitched again, but he curled into a ball in Rumble's arms. Good; that meant he was calming down.  
It was just after dawn, more or less, and the main cavern was almost deserted. Rumble walked over to the pool and put Ratbat down on the low wall surrounding the turquoise waters. *Wanna splash, Rats?*  
*Wanna splash.* Ratbat uncurled again, and smiled a tremulous smile up at his older brother. *You, too?*  
*In a moment. I'm still half in recharge, I'll sit here and watch you for a while.*  
*Okay.*  
As Ratbat splashed into the shallow water, Rumble climbed up to sit on the wall.  
*Query: status?*  
*He's calmin' down now, boss. We're gonna splash for a while. Enjoy your downtime.*  
*Affirmative. Rumble: appreciated.*  
Rumble grinned. *Back at ya, boss. Come back with good news. Rumble out.*  
He might not be Ravage, but he was no slouch. He heard the silent pedesteps coming up behind him. It would almost be enough for him to trigger his piledrivers, if it hadn't been for where and when he was.  
Soundwave wouldn't be happy if he messed this up.  
"Hi."  
"Hey," Rumble grunted, his vocalizer still a bit staticky from recharging.  
The green Autobot sat down next to him, pedes dangling into the water. "I'm Hound."  
"I know who ya are. And ya know who I am."  
The Autobot chuckled. "Yeah."  
They sat in silence for a while. Rumble didn't feel like talking. Sure, the gathering was about being friendly with the Autobots - and he was friendly, slaggit, he hadn't pounded anyone yet – but the sheer amount if friendliness going on around him put his plating on edge. He'd had quite enough feeling the echoes through the twin bond earlier of slaggin' Frenzy fragging those Autodork cassettes, thank you very much.  
"You're not – um…"  
"Fraggin' anyone?" Rumble sneered. "No. Not interested." He nodded towards Ratbat, splashing happily through the water. "'Sides, I'm on babysittin' duty."  
The silence fell again, but this time it was different. Rumble could feel the dumb Autobot shooting glances at him from time to time.  
Ratbat had finally looked up from his splashing and noticed that Rumble had company. The spraying water from the quickly approaching cassette was enough to make Rumble shield his optics with his hands. "Slaggit, Rats, stop that!"  
"Hi!" Ratbat chirped brightly, completely disregarding his older brother in favor of the new green mech he'd never talked to before. "Wanna splash?"  
Hound chuckled. "Yeah sure, kiddo, I'll splash with you." He shot a quick smile at Rumble, then stood up and joined the little cassette in the water. The pool that was deep for Ratbat reached to the middle of Hound's lower leg.  
Rumble was content to stay behind and watch. He wouldn't remain alone for long – slight sensation over the bond let him know that Ravage had achieved her objective and would be joining him quite soon.  
"Hey, little mech."  
That was not Ravage.  
How in the pit had that idiot gotten so close without him noticing?  
"Hey, Blaster." He could be friendly. He could.  
The brightly-colored mech sat down on the wall next to him. "He likes the pool, doesn't he?"  
"He'd live in there if he could," Rumble replied.  
"Yeah, I get that. He's still young."  
Rumble didn't reply. Because, duh. Anyone with semi-functional optics could see that Ratbat was young.  
"So are you having fun?"  
Rumble eyed the Autobot skeptically. "Ya don't have to talk to me, ya know. I'm fine. I think I might get some more high-grade."  
"So you're not having fun."  
"Rumble likes the drinking," Ravage said softly, leaping up to sit on Blaster's other side. "He doesn't like the socializing. Hello, Blaster."  
*Don't need your help.*  
*Yes, you do, brother mine. Now be quiet.*  
Blaster looked from Ravage to him, but wisely refrained from commenting.  
"So where are your cassettes, Blaster?" Ravage asked silkily. Rumble seriously considered walking away and getting some high-grade.  
"Recharging, mostly," Blaster replied. "Steelie and Ramhorn are with Frenzy, I think."  
"Yes, we noticed that," Ravage purred. "Had to mute the bond, didn't we, Rumble?"  
Rumble sneered, but he wasn't quite paying attention to her. Just Steeljaw and Ramhorn? Not Eject and Rewind?  
"The twins, I'm not sure. Rewind's somewhere, talking to Skyfire and… Reflector? I think? And Onslaught. Eject is…" Blaster turned, looking back towards the entrance to the cave. "There. Hey, little mech."  
"Hi, Blaster," a cheerful voice chirped. Rumble froze.  
"Hello, Eject," Ravage said. She turned her head slightly, and winked at Rumble.  
Winked. Slagging cat.  
"I'm goin' to go get some high-grade," Rumble muttered, pushing himself off the wall and walking towards the bar.  
"Great idea! I'll go with you!"  
Fraggit.  
"So is this base awesome or what?" Eject said, falling into step next to him. "You been exploring?"  
Rumble shook his helm. "Been watchin' Ratbat."  
"Oh, stuck watching the little-leaguer. I guess that explains why I haven't seen you around." Eject paused, glanced at him. "I was a bit surprised when you weren't with Frenzy earlier."  
So Eject had been a part of that. Well, it wasn't as if he hadn't suspected.  
They walked in silence for a few moments. Rumble stared at the bar, but he could see Eject from the corner of his optic. The other cassette was constantly looking at him, then looking away.  
"So…" Eject began, when the silence started gaining physical weight. "About Christmas." He grinned, looking sheepish. "I've never had that much high-grade in my life."  
Rumble snorted, despite himself. "Yeah, me either. Soundwave was not amused."  
"Neither was Blaster. Especially since I spent most of the night purging my tanks into the berth."  
Rumble couldn't help it. He giggled. Eject grinned at him.  
"So…" Eject said again. "You remember?"  
"I remember," Rumble replied quietly, the giggling mood vanishing. Here it came.  
"Yeah. Um. Man, this is awkward." Eject winced, rubbing the back of his neck in a very human gesture. "I didn't mean it, you know."  
Rumble stared at him. "Didn't mean it? Which part?" Because he could totally handle one of them, but not the other.  
Eject stared back in surprise. "Which part… oh! Oh Primus, no, I didn't mean it like that! Man, talk about striking out," he muttered, then vented heavily. "Okay. Here goes. And I hope you don't hate me." He reached out, pulled Rumble into one of the empty alcoves along the wall. Not like Blaster and Ravage didn't know exactly where they were, but it was a bit more private at least.  
Rumble could feel his four-legged sibling being all smug. He pulsed his irritation right back at her, and was rewarded with the emotional equivalent of the cat sticking out her glossa at him.  
"Listen," Eject said, looking back to make sure they were out of sight for prying eyes. "I didn't mean it like that. The thing in the woods, yeah, that was fun. But I never meant for it to go down like that."  
"And the talk afterwards?" Rumble asked, and though he would never admit it, he was half afraid to hear the answer.  
"The talk afterwards…" Eject sat down on a conveniently located pillow. "That scares me. But I did mean that." He looked up then, visor inscrutable. "You're worth more than a frag in the woods, Rumble. You deserve more than that."  
"I see." He sat down as well, opposite the other. He had a feeling he should be saying something else, but his mind was blank.  
"Can you forgive me?" Eject said hopefully.  
Rumble shrugged. "For the frag in the woods, or the talk?"  
"Both. Either. I don't know. You know, if we'd talked first I never would have fragged you in the woods like that?"  
"If ya hadn't fragged me in the woods like that, we'd never have talked."  
"Oh, I don't know." Eject grinned, and there was a new kind of cast to the expression. He was almost smirking. "I still think you're smoking hot. I have for a while, even when we were enemies."  
Rumble canted his head. "Ya do?"  
Eject nodded. "And that's what I didn't mean. I… I was so focused on scoring that I lost sight of the game strategy. And then, when we talked… I think our first time should have been different, you know?" He leaned forward, ran a finger down Rumble's arm carefully.  
Rumble was confused. And that slagging cat was still laughing at him in his head.  
*Shut it, Ravage.*  
*Aw, Rumble, he likes you. See, I told you it would be fine.*  
*I don't know what to do,* he admitted.  
*Primus spare me the clueless little brothers,* Ravage sighed. *You could try, I don't know, kissing him? Seemed to work well enough for everyone else.*  
Rumble blinked.  
Eject was still looking at him, half hopeful, half fearful. His hand had moved to Rumble's knee.  
*For Primus' sake, just go for it, Rumble,* Ravage said sternly. *I've had quite enough of watching you pine. We all have. And from what Blaster tells me… Eject hasn't been much better. He's spent all the time since they got here looking for you.*  
Really? That meant… that Eject hadn't been with Frenzy.  
The relief he felt was almost enough to make him giddy.  
Rumble looked at the hand on his knee. He had distinct, pre-overcharge memories of what that hand could do, where it had been. He'd spent the last month fantasizing about it.  
"Ya really mean it?" he asked timidly, while wondering what in the pit had happened to his usual tough manner. He was normally more aggressive than this.  
"I really mean it," Eject answered earnestly.  
For a moment they just stared at each other.  
"So," Eject said. "Wanna try?"  
"Yeah," Rumble said at last, putting his hand over the other's. "I wanna try."

"How was your recharge?" Megatron sat down next to him and passed him a cube – regular energon, by the color.  
"Good," Bumblebee replied, accepting the cube gratefully. "Worked even better than I expected." He had spent the night curled up in one of Megatron's chairs. It had been built for his massive frame, so Bee had been able to lie down and snuggle up quite comfortably. He'd woken from recharge while Megatron was in the wash racks, and had decided to wait for the warlord by the large window.  
"So does this place produce enough to support your entire army?" Bumblebee asked, looking up at Megatron curiously. The grey mech was looking out the window, watching the morning in the cavern. Not that much was happening, it seemed like most of the mechs were deep in recharge. Or engaged in other interesting activities.  
"Yes, it should, once it gets up to capacity," Megatron replied. The warlord was still slightly damp from his wash, and Bumblebee could see that he hadn't quite managed to get into all the nooks and crannies. "It's not quite there yet. Scrapper wants to make sure that we're not overtaxing the volcano."  
"Sounds smart enough," Bumblebee nodded. "It would kind of suck if this whole place blew. It really is awesome."  
"Thank you." Megatron chuckled. "I do believe you've said that already."  
"Well, a good thing can't be repeated too often," Bee grinned. "So does that mean you don't have to raid for energon anymore?"  
"It does," Megatron confirmed. He chuckled darkly. "So now I'm left with an army of Decepticon soldiers with no outlet and no will to fight. High-strung, battle-ready, aggressive, energetic, and I have no idea what to do with them all."  
"Huh. I see the problem." He fell silent for a moment, watching Blast Off walk over to where Blaster was sitting with Ravage by the pool. "It's tricky for you. We're mostly civilians at heart, it'll be easier to go back to that."  
"My Decepticons are warriors," Megatron said bluntly. "Born and built. Warriors are not that useful in peacetime. Though there are a few exceptions."  
"Yeah," Bee grinned, watching the exceptions in question extricate themselves from what could only be described as a cuddle-pile with Grapple in the center. "The Constructicons will be handy, I bet."  
Megatron nodded. "And Soundwave and the cassettes. But the rest – Seekers, Combaticons, Stunticons, all of them – I don't know."  
"What do they want to do, do you think? Pit, what do you want to do?" Bumblebee was curious, actually – given the choice, what would Megatron want? Now that conquest and victory seemed to be vanishing in favor of peace and stable resources?  
"I was a miner and a gladiator, and then I was the leader of the Decepticons," he said, staring into the cube. "Not the kind of skill set that's needed to rebuild Cybertron."  
"I'm not sure we're at the rebuilding Cybertron stage yet," Bumblebee mused.  
"Oh? Where do you think we are, little scout?" Megatron grinned.  
"Yeah, I know," Bumblebee giggled. "I'm not the strategist. I don't even make the long-term plans. But the way I see it, we've got a chance to really do something good here. I think you guys have been on the right track, shipping energon to Cybertron." Megatron nodded appreciatively at that. "But with all the fighting and stuff, we really never stood a chance of making an impact there. If we were to get the humans' permission to put up something like what you've done here in more locations… Who knows?"  
"Who knows indeed," Megatron agreed pensively. Then he smirked at Bumblebee. "Not a planner. I call that slag."  
Bumblebee laughed.  
"So what were you doing, back at Cybertron?" Megatron asked as the laughter died down.  
"I was too young to do anything back there," Bumblebee replied, still smiling a bit. "The Autobots took me in as a youngling and trained me from my first adult upgrade."  
"Huh." Megatron eyed him over the rim of his cube. "Nothing else to go back to. Maybe you're not that different from a Decepticon like that." He grinned. "And I mean that in a good way."  
That had Bumblebee laughing again. "I've heard that from Cliffjumper too, but so has everyone."  
The grey mech eyed him with speculation. "If it makes a difference," Megatron said slowly, "I would be proud to have you."  
Bumblebee sat up ramrod-straight and stared at him. "What?"  
"Yes," Megatron replied. "You're resourceful, and clever, and brave. I could use a mech like that."  
Bumblebee stared at him for another moment, and then he grinned. "And you thought you didn't have useful skills post-war. We'll need strong mechs to lead, Megatron. Or this whole thing will fall apart."  
Megatron sighed. "I don't know if there's room for two strong leaders. Prime and I have butted heads more times than I care to count, even before this whole thing started, and that is not conducive to peace."  
"Talk to him about it," Bumblebee suggested. "He's willing to talk, most of the time."  
"So I've been given to understand," Megatron said dryly.  
Bumblebee snorted, a sharp ex-vent that turned into a giggle. Megatron grinned.  
"Seriously though, talk to him. Work this out. I think it's going to be worth it. And for what it's worth," he canted his head, looking up at the grey face above him, "I think that I'd be honored. To work under you. At least now that you've… mellowed out a bit."  
"You think I'm mellow?" Megatron raised an optic ridge at him.  
Bumblebee looked up at him, considering. "You haven't hit me or threatened to shoot me. And you're in a genuinely good mood. Yeah, I'd say you've mellowed out a bit."  
"Well, as long as it's only a bit," Megatron said, draining the rest of the cube. "That may be possible to live with."  
Bumblebee giggled at that. "Yeah, we can't spoil your reputation completely, can we? You're fierce, cruel, strong, powerful, brook-no-nonsense Mighty Megatron, leader of the Decepticons." He paused, looked out at the increasingly busy cavern. "It might be too late to save your reputation, you know. Since you've been spending so much time with me. I'm a fluffy nuisance of a minibot."  
Megatron chuckled. "Fluffy? Really?"  
"Cliffjumper again," Bumblebee grinned. "When you're jovial, mechs tend to forget that you're Spec Ops. Works really well for Jazz."  
"I can imagine. Well," Megatron said, standing and walking closer to the glass. He would probably be visible from every part of the cavern like this. Bumblebee could see several mechs looking up, pointing him out to each other. "If they start spreading words about the mellow warlord and the fluffy minibot, I've got some things I could say about them as well. Besides, with Prime fragging my second and the rest of my Decepticons submitting to your friends in one way or the other, you talking to me is not really the most juicy thing going on. Also," Megatron's smile was truly evil, "many of them will just assume, since I brought you up here, that I'm fragging you through the berth." A look of concern flitted across his face. "I guess I should have thought about that."  
"Don't worry for my honor, sir," Bumblebee grinned. "Maybe I'll come out of this less fluffy than I was coming in."  
Megatron laughed. "Stranger things are happening."

Fireflight looked down at Thundercracker. The blue Seeker was deep in recharge, a peaceful expression on his faceplates. His arms were cradling Fireflight close, and the smaller Aerialbot was laying across his chest, chin on his hands.  
He was quite content just lying there, memorizing the lines of the Seeker's face.  
His Seeker.  
He kind of liked the sound of that.  
With a content smile on his face, he put his head down on the golden cockpit and let himself slip back into recharge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about that last teaser bit :) I ran out at this point.  
> I had so much fun messing with Rumble in this chapter. Poor guy. Also, I'm not sure why Ravage is female in this. She insisted to be. I also don't know why she's so cultured - her vocal patterns are clean, her manners are good, all that jazz. I guess it's because she's such a cat.


	4. I'll be waiting here, waiting just for you

Prowl was observing. Jazz had finally given up on winning the argument over whether or not it was necessary for the Second-in-Command to be on duty here, and had taken Blaster up on his offer. Currently, the two of them were sitting on the opposite end of the pool with Ravage, Brawl and Onslaught, all enjoying whatever the bar was serving up and listening to the music emanating from Jazz's and Blaster's combined speakers.

Prowl didn't mind. Sociability wasn't really his strength, not like it was his mate's, and after the night they'd spent in the hot pool they could afford to let each other go for a while.

Not that the hot pool wasn't still tempting. Prowl had every intention of enticing his saboteur back into it later.

Duty first, though.

He watched as Soundwave emerged from one of the tunnel openings that led to the upper rooms. The cassette carrier nodded at Prowl as he walked past, heading for the bar. He stopped for a moment to acknowledge Ratbat playing in the pool before taking two cubes Dead End, who was manning the bar, and then headed back to where he came from. Prowl gave him a polite nod in return as he passed him.

Well, at least he was keeping Ratchet fueled. Though Prowl had to admit that of all the Decepticons here, Soundwave was one of those he was least worried about.

There were others who were far more unpredictable. And they were spread out all over the base. The most important one he hadn't seen at all, though he knew Optimus had found him. So that was where he would begin.

He pinged Prime on a non-priority channel. Important as he thought it was to monitor the situation, he didn't want to break into anyone's fun. Prime would reply if he was available.

It didn't take long.

_*Prowl, my friend. I hope you're enjoying our little holiday?*_

_*I am, Prime,*_ he replied. _*Though not, I suspect, as much as you.*_

_*You may be right,*_ the Prime said with a smile in his voice. _*Starscream is… This is more than I ever looked for, Prowl, more than I ever thought I would find.*_

_*You are happy.*_ It wasn't a question.

_*I am overjoyed. As unexpected as this was, it feels very… It feels right, my friend.*_

Prowl looked over at where Jazz was sitting. His mate was laughing at something Blaster said, clean black and white plating catching the light. _*I may not completely understand your choice, Prime, but I do understand the sentiment.*_

_*I expect you do. Don't spend all your time being my Second, Prowl. Take the time to enjoy yourself. We are safe here.*_

Prowl suspected that was true. Still, he'd rather err on the side of caution. _*Yes, sir. Prowl out.*_

He looked up next, at the giant window that should have dominated the room but instead seemed just another fixture. Megatron wasn't visible, but he imagined he could see a smallish yellow shape.

_*Bumblebee.*_

_*Prowl, sir?*_

_*I hope I'm not disturbing. I need a status report on the Autobots, and you've got the best vantage point.*_

_*It's no problem, sir,*_ the friendly minibot replied. _*Megatron is getting us more energon right now, so I'm free.*_

_*He's treating you alright?*_

_*We're just talking, sir,*_ Bumblebee said, and Prowl knew he would be smiling. _*We both have questions. You want me to tell you who I've got eyes on from here?*_

_*Please. And their status.*_

_*Sure thing,*_ the scout said, and started rattling of names.

It was much as Prowl had suspected. There was a gaggle of minibots with Ramjet now, and Thrust had joined them. Grapple and Hoist were still surrounded by Constructicons. All but one – the last one was in the next room, with two other Autobots.

_*Wait a minute_ ,* he interrupted, frowning. _*Are you saying that Hook is debauching_ both _of Ratchet's apprentices?*_

_*Debauching?*_ Bumblebee giggled. _*I think you need to talk to Jazz, sir, catch up on the gossip going amont the troops. Neither Swoop nor First Aid are exactly untouched anymore. Besides, they're not interfacing. They're just talking. As far as I can tell, Hook is teaching them about Seeker frames. He had a hologram going earlier.*_

Well, that's something, at least. Though he was unamused at the news that the youngest of their members were already being treated as adults in all respects.

_*Sides and Smokey are still with Astrotrain and Blitzwing, they've been there all night_ ,* Bumblebee continued. _*Sunstreaker and Bluestreak are in another room by themselves.*_

_*No Decepticons?*_ Prowl was a little surprised at that. He'd have expected the 'Cons to take advantage of the loosened relations this gathering had led to, especially with Sideswipe and Smokescreen providing such an avid example of the fun that could be had even with mechs that were already a couple. He couldn't quite suppress the momentary relief, though. He would have preferred to keep Bluestreak away from the whole ordeal if it had been up to him, but – as Jazz had said – it was time to let his surrogate creation grow up.

_*Sunstreaker doesn't share, sir,*_ Bumblebee chuckled. _*Especially not Bluestreak. Also, Ratchet's with Soundwave, Fireflight's with Thundercracker, the rest of the Protectobots are with Vortex and some of the Stunticons, Blaster's got some cassettes recharging on the ground floor, and I don't know exactly who's hanging out with Grimlock but it looks like they're having fun. Oh, wait, it's Motormaster. Huh, that's unexpected.*_

Prowl tried not to wince. He really was getting much more information than he wanted. _*Thank you, Bumblebee. I think that's quite enough.*_

_*Sorry, sir,*_ the scout replied cheerfully. _*At least you don't have to watch them.*_

_*Yes. Thank Primus for small favors. Prowl out.*_

Prowl cut the connection, grateful both that the small scout was so observant and that he didn't have to listen to him anymore. He opened a new channel with trepidation.

_*Wheeljack?*_

_*Prowl! Hey, did you know that Scrapper's managed to refine my converters so they work double? They're working off the lava heat as well as the cold water outside, drawing energy from the temperature contrasts! It's brilliant! Skyfire says that it should be possible to adapt them to use in space, in places like the Earth's moon that always have one cold side, and – oh, wait a minute.*_

The comm silenced, and Prowl was left staring and blinking in the wake of the barrage. Wheeljack had apparently not kept completely away from the high-grade, and he was so excited by the technology around him that he was channeling his inner Bluestreak. Luckily, Prowl was used to run-on sentences by now.

_*- sorry, I just had to check that out, it's really remarkable what they've pulled off here. Anyway, Prowl, what can I do for you?*_

_*I am trying to keep tabs on everyone,*_ Prowl replied. _*Who's there with you?*_

_*Oh, it's just me and 'Fire,*_ Wheeljack replied. _*We got the green light for exploring. I think Percy's in the next lab over or something.*_

_*Thank you.*_ He hesitated, then added _*Please don't blow this place up.*_

_*Oh ye of little faith,*_ Wheeljack teased. _*Loosen up and enjoy yourself, Prowl. I know I am. Wheeljack out.*_

Prowl frowned slightly. He _was_ enjoying himself, doing this. He enjoyed keeping track of the Autobots, making sure they were safe. He and Red Alert weren't completely dissimilar in that aspect. He wouldn't be making these calls if he didn't enjoy it.

Well. Most of it, anyway. He could have done with somewhat fewer dirty images in his mind.

Maybe he should leave it there, though. Things seemed to be going according to what everyone wished, and no one had broken the truce yet.

He turned, intending to perhaps join his mate, when a voice stopped him.

"Wanna splash?"

"Sorry, sir, he got away from me," Hound grinned. He bent down to tickle the small cassette. "C'mon, Ratbat, Prowl really doesn't splash much."

"Aw," Ratbat pouted. "Why not?"

"Well, because," Hound began, then frowned.

Because what could he say? Prowl could see the conflict on the scout's face. He didn't want to offend his commander, so saying that Prowl didn't know how to play or was unable to have fun or one of the other lines of reasoning that Prowl knew often made its rounds among the Autobots wouldn't work.

Prowl didn't know what to say either. But the pouting cassette was close to irresistible and required an answer.

"Because he's like me," a new voice purred, letting both Autobots off the hook. "He's not overly fond of it. Hello, commander."

Prowl looked down at the dark feline walking gracefully along the top of the wall. "Hello, Ravage."

The cat stood and stretched. "Commander, I have a proposition for you."

He arched an eyebrow at her, conscious of Hound bringing the younger cassette across the pool and closer to Jazz and Blaster.

"I wonder if you would be interested in seeing the tactical library. Soundwave's amassed a large collection of high-quality files both from both Cybertron and Earth, and he has granted you access to the database."

Well, that was the kind of proposition he enjoyed. He nodded at the cassette. "That would be enjoyable. Lead on, please."

* * *

Perceptor cradled his cube carefully as he hurried along the hallway. He wasn't really sure where he was going, but he was also quite certain that he would rather consume his ration away from the volatile chemicals that made up the Constructicons' lab. He had spotted at least three different acids that were improperly contained, and there didn't seem to be any form of safety measures installed. Wheeljack, of course, lacked the common sense of a drone, and Skyfire was not much better at this point, being far too excited by what the Decepticons had accomplished. Perceptor was fascinated and impressed too, but he retained his sense of self-preservation. Hence the escape through the closest hallway.

Only, now he wasn't sure where he was.

There were doors along one side of the hallway, but they were all locked. So far, the only open door had been the one he'd walked out of. He could only assume that he would reach the end of the hallway at some point and could find his way out from there.

At least, that was his goal until he rounded the next corner and came face to face with one of the largest mechs he had ever encountered.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, taking a step backwards. "Pardon me." He turned around and aimed to hurry away – there must be an opening in the other end of the hallway, mustn't there – but he never got very far.

"Hey," a deep voice said, and a large hand landed on his shoulder. Perceptor squeaked.

"Hey, don't worry," the voice said, as the hand gently turned him back around. "You're Perceptor, right? I'm Blast Off."

Perceptor looked up, but all he could take in was a mass of rusty orange and the purple Decepticon symbol on the other's chest. The name was familiar, though – this was the shuttle that had brought him here the day before.

"Y-yes," he replied, his vocalizer producing a higher pitch than normal. "I'm Perceptor."

The other leaned back slightly and looked at him. "You're scared of me," he rumbled after a moment. "I can understand that, but you don't have to be scared here. No one's going to hurt you."

Perceptor couldn't quite find it within himself to believe that, no matter that Jazz – and Wheeljack, and Groove, and even Sunstreaker – had told him. They were in the depth of a Decepticon stronghold the likes of which the Autobots had never seen. There had to be a catch of some kind.

"Did you get lost?" the Decepticon asked.

"N-no!" Perceptor protested. It would not do to appear weaker than he was. "I am simply a tad – directionally disoriented."

"Oh," the other replied, looking at him with confusion. "Well, in that case." He turned in the direction Perceptor had been walking. "I was just about to get some energon. Would you want to accompany me?"

Perceptor considered quickly. They were, technically, under a truce, and the Decepticons hadn't broken it yet. Blast Off didn't seem to be armed.

Then again, he was the Combaticon shuttle. He didn't need to be armed to be dangerous.

"I already have a cube, thank you," he hedged.

"Yes, so I see," the other mech replied. "Still, I would appreciate your company. And your opinion."

"My opinion?" Perceptor echoed. He was intrigued, despite himself. "On what?"

"On whether or not this idea of Scrapper's is viable," Blast Off replied. "He has this notion that we can harvest enough energon to revive Cybertron using the temperature dynamics of the inner planets of this solar system. I'm not sure the solar energy in space can be refined using the resources we have available."

Perceptor just stared at him. That echoed a level of education and knowledge he had thought the shuttle incapable of. "Are you a scientist?"

Blast Off chuckled. "No, that I am not. But I've had an earful of several, flitting around the inner planets with Scrapper and Starscream and Mixmaster aboard. Their plans range from careful to grandiose, and I don't know what to believe." He looked down at Perceptor. "You're a scientist, though. Will you tell me what you think?"

"I – I suppose. Skyfire's really the expert in that field, though."

"Maybe if we find him, he can join the discussion," Blast Off suggested. "I think the mad 'Con scientists are all busy with someone else at the moment, so it's probably one of the best chances we'll get."

Perceptor found himself chuckling, his nerves easing somewhat. "You may be correct. All right then, please lead the way."

Blast Off nodded, and turned to make room for Perceptor falling in next to him. "You really were lost, weren't you?"

Perceptor chose not to answer that. Instead he walked next to the larger mech, mindful to keep a certain distance between them. Blast Off seemed content to walk in contemplative silence, but Perceptor's curiosity soon got the better of him.

"Are they actually seeking to increase the production of energon by utilizing the extreme temperature differences between the dark and bright sides of the celestial satellites?" he asked, wonder and clear interest in his voice.

Blast Off glanced down at him. "So I gather. This system apparently has many boons we could harvest."

"It seems so, and possibly even without interfering with the indigenous popu – oh!"

"Evening," the other massive mech said, looking down at Perceptor from the doorway he'd just walked out of. Perceptor nodded once, quickly, pressing himself against the wall.

"Evening, Ons," Blast Off said easily. "Forgot something?"

The other held up his hand, showing the shuttleformer a small datachip. "Lost a bet."

"I told you that gambling with Smokescreen and Swindle was a bad idea," Blast Off said, and Perceptor thought he sounded almost gloating.

The new mech – Onslaught, Perceptor assumed – grunted and walked past them. Perceptor didn't move until he'd turned the corner behind them and was out of sight.

Blast Off was staring at him, he realized.

"You don't have to be scared here," the shuttleformer said quietly. "We're keeping to the truce."

"Oh, I- I know that," Perceptor said, nodding and walking on in the direction he had been going.

"Then why are you afraid?" Blast Off asked. "I could feel it when we flew here, too. I know the others were trying to calm you down, not that it helped much."

Perceptor didn't quite know what to say. It was silly, he knew that, they'd all told him. But he couldn't help feeling… apprehensive.

"What can we do to put you at ease?" Blast Off asked.

"I do apologize," Perceptor said. He was hoping the other mech would let the whole thing go. Then he could leave him behind as soon as they got to the main room, and find someone he trusted to stick to for the remainder of their stay.

Like Ironhide. Or Prowl. Or Defensor.

Yes, Defensor would be good.

"I'm not – that is," he continued, not entirely certain what he should say. And if he actually was apologizing to a Decepticon for being scared of him. The idea in its entirety was ludicrous, after all.

"Oh, wait," Blast Off said suddenly, and Perceptor got the impression that the shuttleformer was grinning under his mask. "I know. Come on."

Perceptor followed as Blast Off veered in another direction, walking briskly while still making sure that the smaller microscope could follow. They walked down the hall until they arrived at a door that looked just like all the others. Blast Off palmed the door lock and the door slid aside for them.

Inside was glass.

Perceptor looked inside curiously. His first impression was right – there was glass everywhere. On every surface. And in the center of the room, the three-in-one components of Reflector were building something.

"Reflector," Blast Off said. "Mind explaining to Perceptor here what you're up to?"

"Oh!" the middle component said, raising his head. "I'm attempting to concentrate the sunlight."

"Yeah, into solid form," the left one continued, "using the lenses and mirrors."

"I figured we can use it as a fuel source," the last component said. "I'm just putting the finishing touches on it."

Perceptor inched closer, fascinated. "You are trying to condense the solar energy into a usable energy source using reflection?"

"Don't know if it'll work yet," the middle one said. "I'm mostly doing it for fun. And because Skywarp told me that he would warp me to a cave on an island just outside Antarctica and leave me there if I watched what everyone was doing these three days." He gestured at the apparatus in front of him. "I've got these nanofilters set up, and the gravity actuators, and the inertia wells I liberated from Starscream's lab. I want to make the sunlight heavy first." He winked at Perceptor. "Like the Discworld."

Perceptor didn't understand the reference. He had a feeling that Jazz or Bumblebee would have.

"Do you have the inertia wells calibrated to the photon level specific for this longitude?" he asked, bending over the set-up that he somehow had gotten all the way up close to. His helm was nearly brushing one of the Reflector components' helm. "Will the nanofilters function down here?"

"Better than outside actually," Reflector replied. "The extra pressure of being below sea level helps."

"That is fascinating," Perceptor mused, focusing down at the minute details in the actuator lens arrays. "What if you were to use crystals instead of mirrors as the focal points for the filters?"

"That might work better, yeah," Reflector said eagerly. "Come on, help me here."

"I'm going to leave you two to it," Blast Off said, walking back out and closing the door. The mechs inside didn't notice.

* * *

"Thank you," Ratchet said, accepting the cube Soundwave handed him.

The navy mech nodded. "Ratchet: recharge well?"

"I did," Ratchet replied, and he was still surprised about that. Who would have thought he would get the longest recharge he'd had all month in the middle of a Decepticon stronghold? And in the company of Soundwave, of all mechs?

"Good," the navy mech said, his mask sliding aside to reveal a small smile. "Recharge: important."

"So they keep telling me," Ratchet replied dryly, sipping at his cube. "Optimus and Wheeljack will probably want to know your secret."

Soundwave canted his head. "Query: secret?"

"Of how you got me to recharge."

Soundwave smiled that small smile again. Primus, the mech really was gorgeous. "Prime: derelict in duty. Must make sure Ratchet relaxes. Then Ratchet recharges."

Ratchet chuckled. "That simple, huh?"

"Affirmative. That simple."

Ratchet couldn't help but smile back this time. He finished the rest of his cube in silence, sneaking stolen looks at the Decepticon third in command.

"Query," Soundwave said at last, dispersing his empty cube. "Ratchet: not relaxed at Ark?"

He shrugged. "There's always so much to do. Someone always slags themselves up, someone always needs something, we're always short of some critical tool or fluid or part or other. Wheeljack always blows himself up." He snorted. "No, I don't relax much, Soundwave. Your boss sees to that."

A dark blue hand reached for his. Ratchet eyed it warily as it encircled his red fingers. "Soundwave regrets."

Great. Now he felt uncomfortable. "Ratchet regrets, too," he admitted. "I'm a medic, Soundwave. I was never supposed to kill. Do you have any idea what I've had to do to my coding to just get to a point where I can tolerate carrying weapons? It's core coding, Soundwave. I'm messing with my own core coding. And one of these days it still won't be enough, and Sunstreaker or Cliffjumper or Ironhide or any of the other slaggers that I fix up on a daily basis will come back in in too many pieces for me to put back together and their spark will gutter in my hands. So far I've been lucky and managed to revive them, but my luck will run out at some point." He leaned forward, put his head in his hands. The one Soundwave had been holding was tingling. "After most battles I end up over-imbibing, and whoever's still standing will have to carry me to my berth, and if I'm lucky I get to forget about it for a night. Feel alive for a night. More often I end up purging for a day or so in the dark. And then I go back out and do it all over again."

He didn't look up as Soundwave placed his hands on either side of Ratchet's, cradling his face. The Decepticon's hands were warm, the pressure gentle.

"Ratchet: not at fault," he said softly.

"Yeah, well, I'm not free of blame either. None of us are."

"Statement: accurate," Soundwave said. He tugged at Ratchet's hands until the medic lifted his head back up and looked at him.

With a soft click, Soundwave retracted his visor. His optics were golden. "Soundwave: regrets," he repeated. "Regrets hurting Ratchet most of all. Soundwave hopes, though. Peace: possible, Megatron: amenable. Prime: courting Starscream. Seeker elite: courting Aerialbots."

"Yeah, everyone's gone crazy," Ratchet agreed. "I'll take the madness, though, if we get peace from it."

"Affirmative." The navy mech looked down for a moment, nibbling at his lower lip. It was more than a little adorable. "Soundwave… hopes for something else also."

"Oh?" Ratchet canted his head. Somehow his hands had twisted until red fingers and blue were intertwined, and Ratchet didn't notice until Soundwave gently pulled away.

"Query," Soundwave began, then hesitated. Then he gave a small chuckle and shook his head. "Soundwave: did practice this. Practice: insufficient." He reached into subspace, pulled out a box with ribbons on it. "For Ratchet."

Ratchet looked at the box in his hands with wide optics. "Soundwave, this is…"

"Affirmative." Soundwave nodded, looked away, looked back. Bit his lip. "Ratchet of Iacon," he said slowly, looking at Ratchet. "Soundwave of Kaon requests permission to court."

Ratchet just stared at him. He stared for long enough that Soundwave looked away, biting his lip again.

"Soundwave: understands if Ratchet rejects," he said, and the words didn't seem to match the dejected look on his face. "Ratchet: not obligated to say yes. Soundwave: part of package deal. Also, Decepticon."

Ratchet looked from the gold optics, looking away from him now, to the box in his hand, and back.

This was insane.

Completely and utterly processor-meltingly mad.

And yet it was the first thing in a good long while that made sense.

So he tugged at the ribbon, untied the bow. Soundwave's optics glinted and darted back to Ratchet's face. He looked… hopeful.

"Soundwave of Kaon, I accept your offer of courtship," Ratchet said, his voice less steady than he'd liked.

Now it was Soundwave's turn to stare. And then a smile blossomed on that beautiful face, a smile that made Ratchet's spark do strange things that he was pretty sure would show up on a diagnostic. "Truly?"

"Truly," Ratchet confirmed, and now he grinned. "Package deal, Decepticon and all."

Soundwave ex-vented heavily, still smiling. Trembling fingers pushed the lid off the box, picking up one of the energon goodies Ratchet had known would be inside. He lifted his hand towards Ratchet's mouth, again with that hopeful look on his face.

Ratchet smiled and let Soundwave place the piece of candy in his mouth. He closed his mouth plates against Soundwave's fingers, dark metal meeting pale grey.

Soundwave's vents hitched.

"Soundwave," he began quietly, looking at where his fingers were laying against Ratchet's face. "Soundwave will ask Megatron for peace treaty. Will court Ratchet properly. Soundwave: grateful for the chance." His hand moved aside, cupped Ratchet's cheek.

"The peace might be up to others than us," Ratchet replied, tilting his head to push into the touch. "But I certainly wouldn't mind a bit of it."

Soundwave nodded. He was still smiling. Ratchet could feel his hand trembling. Those golden optics met his again.

"Really truly?" he asked, optics bright.

Ratchet leaned back and laughed. "Really truly, Soundwave," he chortled. He picked up a candy piece and lifted it to Soundwave's mouth plates, thumbs stroking the soft metal dermis as the mech opened his mouth. "Nothing would make me happier."

* * *

Jazz watched as Skyfire transformed on the small runway, the first group of travelers boarding. It was a motley crew this time, not organized at all. Sunstreaker and Bluestreak were boarding with Swindle and Onslaught, Hook, First Aid and Swoop behind them. In the air above the volcano, he could see a dark Seeker and a silver jet spiraling around each other.

Nobody was afraid this time.

He watched as Cliffjumper walked out of the volcano with Ramjet and Thrust. There was some definite groping of aft, both the Seeker and the minibot variety, before the two Decepticons transformed and took to the sky. Cliffjumper smirked, snagged a passing Stunticon and dragged him into Skyfire's hold. Brawn and Huffer followed, both of them laughing. Skyfire powered up and took off as Astrotrain and Blitzwing walked out with Sideswipe and Smokescreen. The largest triple-changer looked decidedly unsteady on his feet, and he followed Sideswipe around like a puppy on a leash.

Jazz grinned. There was all manner of potential here. He would have to talk to Soundwave, see if his little avian spies had anything worth bartering for.

"Now that smile bodes ill for somebot, I just know it."

"Nah, m'mech," Jazz grinned, turning slightly to look at Ratchet. "Ah'm just jazzed about all these new friends mechs are makin'. Includin' yaself, Ratch."

The medic stared at him. "How do you – never mind. You always know."

"Yep, Ah do," Jazz replied. "And congratulations. Soundwave is a good mech."

"The very best," Ratchet said softly, so softly that Jazz doubted he was meant to hear. So he pretended he hadn't.

"So where didya hide him, anyway?"

Ratchet chuckled. "Oh, he's with Blaster. They're trying to track down Rumble and Eject. Apparently, someone had such a good time that they don't want to leave."

Jazz had to laugh at that. "Ah take it we can expect an increase in cassette visits, then. Red'll be pleased."

"From what I heard, I think they were planning to set up some sort of visiting schedule," Ratchet smirked. "Taking turns to visit the other."

"Primus," Jazz chuckled, shaking his head. "That's what – the fifth serious entanglement to come outta this?"

"That we know of," Ratchet confirmed. "Prime and Screamer, Skywarp and 'Bolt, Thundercracker and Fireflight and Soundwave and myself. And now Rumble and Eject."

"The whole unbonded command staff of both factions, pairing up like there's no tomorrow," Jazz mused. "Ah don't think even Smokey'd have bet on that."

"Not like there's no tomorrow, Jazz," Ratchet disagreed, shaking his head slightly. "For the first time in a long time, I actually feel like there's a tomorrow worth speaking of. Thanks, you."

"Thanks, me?" Jazz repeated.

Ratchet smirked. "Don't think I don't know that most of this began with you two months ago. I figure I should give credit where credit's due."

Jazz just winked. He didn't really feel that he had anything to do with this, it was all Prowl, but Prowl would be supremely uncomfortable if mecha started walking up to him and thanking him for them finding their significant other or for ending the war. Better it be Jazz.

Ratchet watched as Astrotrain transformed with a groan, landing on protesting struts and trembling wheels. "I think I know who my ride is. That one needs a medic onboard."

"Affirmative," a melodious monotone said from behind them. Jazz would probably never understand how Soundwave managed to be both those things at once, but he would happily badger the mech until he figured it out. "Astrotrain: got heavily overcharged. Also: intense interfacing led to lack of recharge."

"And I'm not apologizing!" Sideswipe called in a sing-song tone, letting one hand run along Astrotrain's exterior plating.

"You will if we crash, you glitch!" Ratchet called back, but there was humor in his tone.

"Astrotrain: safe for flight," Soundwave said. "Even intoxicated. Crash: unlikely."

"Oh, I know." Ratchet grinned. "Besides, if there's any sign of trouble you'll just get me out of there, won't you?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave said softly, lifting a hand to run a finger down Ratchet's arm.

Jazz, from behind the safety of his visor, followed the move of that finger with scrutiny. He noticed how Ratchet responded, the look in the medic's eyes, the slight pressure into the touch.

Oh yeah, these two would do all right.

The sound of thrusters had him turn back to the volcano, looking up the mountain. Starscream was hovering in front of Optimus up there. This was the first Jazz had seen of his leader in three days, and he was glad he was watching from a distance, because he was pretty slagging sure he didn't want to know what they were saying. It was enough to see what they were doing.

"Optimus is acting like a lovestruck youngling," Ratchet remarked.

"Affection: genuine," Soundwave said. "Starscream: smitten."

Jazz laughed. "Prime smitten too, mah mech."

"This is good for the peace effort," Ratchet added. "Well, as long as Optimus keeps his wits about him. I know Megatron will keep a level head, and it won't do for the Prime to negotiate with his spark instead of his processor."

"That's why ya got Prowler," Jazz said. "He's levelheaded enough for the both of them." He shot Ratchet a look. "Ya seem pretty certain that there will be negotiations, Ratch."

"And you're not?" Ratchet shot back. "Look."

Jazz turned to see the Slagmaker himself walk out of the volcano, Bumblebee next to him. The yellow minibot had to take two strides for Megatron's one, but it didn't seem to bother any of them. In fact, Megatron was laughing.

Not the cruel, vindictive sound Jazz had heard on many a battlefield, not the mocking chuckle of the command center when any of his subordinates – Starscream, most likely – had failed. This was a true laugh, mirthful and happy, and more likely to have come from Optimus than Megatron. Yet there they were. Bumblebee grinning and mock-punching the warlord's leg, Megatron's hand on Bumblebee's shoulder.

Behind them, Thundercracker and Fireflight came out of the elevator. Fireflight was glued to the other's side, blue arms cradling the red and white plating, the Seeker nuzzling against the younger jet's cheek. They were both smiling, paying no heed at all to their surroundings, even though Air Raid and Slingshot were both cat-calling them. When they took off, Megatron looked up at the sound of the thrusters and just shook his head with a small grin.

Jazz rebooted his optical sensors.

"…okay. Ah'll concede it. And prepare Prowl to prep a treaty draft." He smiled, and he knew the wonder was clear on his face. "It looks like the war is over, folks."

"Affirmative," Soundwave said. "Finally."

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

Bumblebee woke up in the middle of the night to the incessant beeping of his comm.

_*Yeah?*_

_*Did I wake you, little scout?*_

Bumblebee sat up, confused. _*Megatron? You did, sir, but it's okay.*_

_*I apologize.*_

Bumblebee grinned. If someone had told him three months ago that Megatron would comm him in the middle of the night and then apologize for waking him up, he would have sent them to Ratchet for a checkup. Things sure had changed.

_*As I said, it's okay. What do you need, sir?*_

_*I… Some reassurance.*_ Megatron paused. _*I'm sending a peace proposal to Prime tomorrow.*_

Bumblebee blinked, and then realized what the warlord was saying. _*You're nervous.*_

_*Very. Isn't that strange? I haven't been nervous about anything since I was a youngling facing my first gladiatorial match. And now I find I can't recharge, I can't get my processor to stop running the same scenarios over and over.*_

_*It sounds familiar, sir,*_ Bumblebee replied. _*In my experience, it helps to talk about it.*_

_*Yes. That's why I'm calling. There are none on my side who I can confide in.*_

That was some of the problem, Bumblebee knew. Megatron had built such a pedestal for himself in order for the Decepticons to respect and follow him that there were none among them who he could trust. Especially since he'd also done his best to foster poor relations both among the crew and between them and himself. It took some time to change a leadership that had been built on violence, and even longer for the Decepticons to stop fearing him.

* _I know,*_ he replied. _*What worries you most?*_

_*I don't know if I can pinpoint it_ ,* the warlord admitted. _*These last couple of months have been so strange, and now I don't know what to do. The proposal is very rough, I don't even know what to put into it.*_

* _Want me to look it over?*_

* _Please.*_ The warlord chuckled. _*I am usually good with words, I swear. But this… I don't want to fail with this.*_

* _Send me the draft_ ,* Bumblebee said, smiling. * _You know I'll help_.*

* _Yes, I know. You're a good friend, little scout.*_

* _Call me Bumblebee, sir.*_

* _Then stop calling me sir. At least in private_.*

* _Okay, Megatron.*_

Bee sat down at his console, powering it up as he waited for Megatron to send him the draft.

* _Hey, Bumblebee.*_

* _Yes?*_

* _Thank you.*_

Oh yes, things had definitely changed.


End file.
